A Promise To Kill
by RiverDoe
Summary: A few years after the war, Heero is asked to kill someone he used to know. 1x? Complete Please RR


Disclaimer: Nope, Heero's not mine, and neither are any of the other characters nicked from the anime

AN- Had this fic kicking around for a while now, and just decided (while on a lot of caffeine at 3am) to rewrite it. I'm not entirely used to writing from Heero's POV, so comments would be very handy, especially about the timeline. And I know I'm missing stuff out, it's been at least a year since I've even seen a GW episode. Please review, even if you're just going to tell me how sh?t this is.

Summary: A few years after the war, Heero is asked to kill someone he used to know. 1x? Rated PG, I guess

**A Promise to Kill**

I once promised someone I'd never kill again. I promised that I'd never hold a weapon – a gun, knife, or otherwise – and I'd never harm a single living thing ever again. I made that promise to Relena after she helped me to survive my wounds, or so she says. But I also made that promise to myself.

A soldier always honours his word.

And now I have to break it.

No one gives me a second look as I walk up the stairs. I hold a briefcase in my left hand, my right is buried in my pocket, and I feel extremely uncomfortable in the dark blue suit I'm wearing. Several maids bow their head in respect as I pass them. I ignore them and keep going.

I leave the expensive staircase behind me and head along the ornately designed corridor of the top floor. Wooden doors line the corridor along each side and the long red carpet rolled down the middle makes it seem to go on forever.

I pass more room service and slip into the maintenance stairwell. No one's there, which is a relief. I don't want to have to kill anyone too soon. If I do then my whole plan is blown and I'll have one of three choices, none of which I want to think about.

Instead, I think back to why I'm here and how I got myself into this mess.

Three days ago, I was working at a garage on an L1 Colony. The usual deskman was out so my boss called me to the front desk to serve the customers that came in.

I packed away my tools and cleaned the oil off of my hands as I headed round to the front.

Two men were there. One was tall, pale, wearing a long trench-coat and a felt hat covered his eyes. I could see he had a long nose and thin mouth, like he could smell something not so pleasant. He looked like manpower in case something should go wrong.

The other man was a good two feet shorter than his companion and kept glancing around nervously. Like his colleague, he wore a long coat but no hat. His head was balding and what little hair was left was pale brown in colour. He had a wide smile on his face and a short stubby nose that reminded me of a mouse, or a rat. He was fawning over an old Mustang I had restored earlier that week.

"Can I help you?" I called across to them, wandering if they were customers. The little man jumped and turned eyes the colour of emeralds to face me. For a second he reminded me of an old friend. Someone I used to know… but when he spoke the resemblance was instantly gone.

"Ah, yes," he drawled, as his eyes raked me up and down. He approached me cautiously, as if afraid that I would bite. Once he was close, too close for comfort, he leaned in close and whispered to me. "Could we perhaps speak in private, hmm? Away from prying eyes."

With the last few words, he gestured towards where my boss was watching us from the window of his office. I moved so that my back was to the office and glared down at the little man. I had a feeling they weren't there for the cars.

"What do you want?" I hissed down at him. The larger man moved to interfere, but the smaller waved him off. He took my arm and pulled me away.

"I have… an offer for you," he said, "A deal."

"I have work to do." I replied and pulled away. I headed towards the shop and the large man stepped into my path. He was a good head taller than me and close up, I could see three parallel scars on his left cheek running from his jaw and disappearing above his ear into his hairline.

"It's okay," said the smaller man behind me. I threw a glare at him over my shoulder.

"Perhaps we could meet another time," he said, smiling so much it looked like his head was split in two. "There's a small café a few streets over. Be there tomorrow at noon. We'll talk more then, if you don't want anyone to find out about your little secret."

Then he left, him and his partner disappeared into a black SUV with tinted windows that was sitting on the sidewalk. I thought I caught a glimpse of someone else in the backseat with them but thought nothing of it at the time, but my mind was pre-occupied with what the smaller man had said to me.

_"Your little secret..."_

As I pick the lock that opens out onto the roof, I struggle to remember what I saw-- who I saw. I'm sure it was someone I know, or knew at some point.

The door opens easily and swings outwards. I grab it before it can hit the wall and hold it steady. If there's anyone up here, they don't need to know I've arrived.

I check the roof twice and find no one. I take the case over to one of the sides and place it on the edge. I look over the small park – it looks small from up here – and locate the area I'm going to be aiming at. The area where my target will appear.

I pull the case off the side and head over to where I've got a less obscured view. Preferably where the trees are not in my way. From up here, I can see the white path – from up here it looks like a narrow ribbon winding it's way through a sea of green – and if I look hard enough, I can make out the stone benches where my target will appear in a few hours, they look like tiny pinpricks from up here.

I set the case down on the side and open it. Inside it, nestled in dark blue silk, is a sniper rifle.

The café was called _Café de la __République_ and despite the name, was always busy every single day. I approached the entrance carefully. The café was still a little empty, but I knew it would soon pick up once people started getting off work for lunch. For such a small place, it had one hell of a reputation. I knew that by one at the latest, it would be completely packed.

It was still quarter to twelve when I entered and took a seat in one of the corners, as far back as I could go without losing my view of the front entrance. A waitress came by, at first I wasn't going to order anything, but I changed my mind and ordered a coffee. Black, strong, no sugar. She brought it, I paid and she wandered off to tend to other customers.

I left the drink untouched for a while, letting it cool before I lifted it to my mouth. The hot liquid didn't pass my lips.

At five to, both men arrived. They looked round the place and the smaller smiled when he saw me. I didn't smile back as he crossed the room and took the seat opposite mine. The tall one dragged a seat over from another table and sat next to the smaller man. He folded his arms and slouched in the seat. I got the feeling he was watching my every move.

The short one glanced around nervously. I took another pretend sip of my coffee, although it was still quite hot and it burned by lip. Over the rim, I glared at Shorty with cold eyes until he began to fidget.

The waitress returned and asked them if they wanted anything. Tall said nothing, Shorty asked for a cappuccino. It was brought to him promptly. He sipped and smiled, then he reached into his pocket and I tensed.

He withdrew a large manila envelope, placed it on the table and kept his hand on it.

"I know who you are," he said, staring at me. His green eyes glittered with mailce as he watched my every move. "I want you to do this job or the whole world will know that you are a Gundam pilot."

I glared at him, trying to figure out how he had managed to get a hold of that information. He grinned back at me and my gaze landed on the envelope. I weighed my chances. If the world found out about us pilots, then no where would be safe. But who said they had to...

"Who?" I asked, taking another pretend sip.

Shorty shoved the envelope over to me and I opened it carefully and peered inside.

I can feel my suit sticking to my skin as I put the rifle together. I keep my gaze fixed on the large white blob exactly forty-two floors below me. That blob is a circle of benches around a water fountain, and in the middle, the sun reflects off of the water, forcing me to squint against it.

I grab the combat quilt from where I hid it the previous night underneath the side and throw it over my head. At least if any choppers decide to show, I most likely won't be spotted. There's white gravel all over the rooftop, to reflect the sun, and the quilt is the same colour as it. I stole it from a base a few weeks ago, along with the rifle.

I crouch down against the side, the rifle sighted on the group of benches and settle down to wait.

I pulled out the picture that was inside the folder and squinted at it.

"Why would I do this?" I asked them, throwing the picture down on the table and slouching back against my seat. Shorty grinned at that, and I felt my stomach flip. He knew something else that he wasn't going to tell me.

"You are not the only Gundam pilot that we know of." He said, grinning at me manically. He held out his hand and counted off the others, one by one. "There's Duo Maxwell, owns a number of scrap yards over on L2. Quatre Winner, respected businessman and multi-billionaire, courtesy of his father's corporation. Wu Fei Chang, current working Preventer. Am I missing anyone?"

I narrowed my eyes at him, trying to figure out who his source might be and took another sip of my coffee. He was grinning at me like he'd just solved a thousand year old puzzle and won a huge cash prize.

"Well?" he asked, and I instantly wanted to wipe that stupid grin off of his face. "What's it going to be? Kill him--" he tapped the photograph "—Or destroy the lives of all of your friends?"

My hands clench around the handle of the rifle as I remember what I said to him. What I told him, and he just sat there and took it, every damn word. I close my eyes and have to take some very deep breaths to calm myself.

I hear a clock tolling away in the distance and my eyes snap open. I sight along the barrel and see my target walking towards the bench. He's holding a brown paper bag in one hand and is smiling at the person he's walking with. They sit at the bench they always sit at and my finger tightens on the trigger.

I hear my heart pounding in my chest, too loud for its own good.

My breath comes in harsh pants under the unmerciful sun.

And I wait.

I wait until his eyes are closed and he's looking at his friend. He's smiling happily. I sight carefully and mentally, I pull the trigger.

My finger doesn't even twitch.

I close my eyes and force myself to calm down. But when I open them again, I see him looking round. He must have sensed that something is wrong. He seems nervous.

Then he looks right up at me.

At the back of my mind I know that's not possible. He can't possibly see me. I'mover forty storey's up, for Christ's sake. And yet, when I look down the barrel, I see him looking at me. His eyes are sad and he looks like he's about to tear up, although I know he's far too strong for that.

Those eyes continue to stare back at me and I know in that instance that I'll keep my promise. I can keep my word after all. Slowly, I remove the eyepiece from my eye. I don't know how long I've been up here waiting and I've most likely got a black eye from staring down the eyepiece, but I do know one thing: I will keep my promise.

I can't and won't kill, not ever again.

I can't kill him…

Not the man I love.

**End**


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